


A Tale of Two Languorous Mornings

by helva2260



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kink Meme, M/M, Post-Season/Series 2, Prior consent assumed, Somnophilia, non-explicit consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helva2260/pseuds/helva2260
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin both find that there's something rather nice about watching each other sleep...and they also enjoy waking each other up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Languorous Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Written (just a little while ago...in 2010!) for the KMM prompt "[Arthur/Merlin, somnophilia](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/1108.html?thread=17492#t17492)".

Asleep, Merlin’s face was a study of light and shadow, softened into innocence by the early morning. He lay curled up on his side like a cat in a habit that Arthur, despite six months of trying, had not been able to break. Asleep, Merlin was self-contained and silent - but pleasant though that was for a change, Arthur preferred him awake. Though asleep did have a few advantages, not least of which was the opportunity to indulge himself in a rare moment of sentimentality…

Arthur reached out a hand to the beloved face with which he shared the pillow, and then changed course and settled his fingers into thick dark locks instead. Inching forwards until their noses met, he enjoyed the sensations of luxury: a morning with no rush to be anywhere, Merlin’s silky hair caressing his hand, the soft huff of Merlin’s breath on his mouth, and Merlin’s warm skin just a finger’s length away…

It was too much temptation to be borne. Arthur shifted forward again, stealthy and intent as when he hunted, and brought his hand down to Merlin’s back, drawing him closer. Merlin uncoiled slightly, frowned faintly, mumbled a sleepy protest - and shifted his legs without prompting, hooking his knee over Arthur’s hip with unconscious accuracy. Arthur smiled fondly, and moved in to kiss him.

Little more than a wrinkled nose, and a reluctant groan greeted his first effort. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You are supposed to be here for my convenience you know,” he complained softly, “Not the other way around.”

Merlin’s mouth opened, pouting slightly, and Arthur kissed him again. This time, Merlin responded to the kiss, and shifted slightly, his arm stroking dream-like up Arthur’s side and his knee drawing Arthur closer until their bodies were at rest together, like two halves of a whole; mouth to mouth, chest to chest, and groin to groin.

Arthur sighed into Merlin’s mouth contentedly, his hand moving almost of its own accord to palm the base of Merlin‘s neck. His fingers tangled in Merlin’s hair again; his thumb stroked at the lobe of Merlin‘s ear. Experimentally, he rolled his hips, relishing the feel of their erections butting past each other. He got an appreciative hum in reply, and did it again.

“G’morning,” Merlin murmured into the kiss, and took a firm hold at Arthur’s waist. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. “ ’S nice,” he said, and Arthur smirked.

“It’s supposed to be nice, Merlin,” he said. “That’s why people do it.”

Merlin blinked his eyes open finally, and smiled - and Arthur felt his breath stutter with desire.

With both of them fully awake, the lazy mood could not last. As both of them strove together, breathed together, moved against each other and with each other, the rhythm shifted.

Thrusts deepened and hands grasped greedily.

And if Arthur mourned the passing of the earlier mood, it didn’t last long. He didn’t last much longer. And neither did Merlin.

 

* * *

 

Asleep, Arthur is regal still, lying flat on his back, in a way that Merlin wants to hate, because it takes possession of the entire bed, but somehow can’t, because it’s Arthur. Merlin has spent the last six months trying to guide Arthur into a more comfortable position where they can lie like spoons together, but no! Asleep, Arthur is just as stubborn as awake, and twice as heavy. 

Framed by the white of Arthur’s pillow, sleep-tousled spikes of dark blond hair, as yet unlightened by the long summer patrols, are gilded into truer gold by the rising sun. He is himself when he sleeps, almost more so than when he is awake and weighted down by layers of duty: to his father, his king, his knights, his people. But quiet like this, his face smooths out into the kind of peace that Merlin only ever sees at times like these - and at the beach by the labyrinth, and in Camelot itself, in unnatural silence as all around them slept… Merlin stores up the memory of this private, perfect morning against the threat of a future day when he will see again that peace on Arthur’s waking face.

A sudden snort from Arthur’s direction breaks Merlin’s reverie, and he is struck by the urge to giggle at the distinctly unregal sight of the prince smacking his lips as he dreams. No nearer waking, he raises a muscled arm to clutch at the pillow, and settles back into stillness.

An idea takes root in Merlin’s mind and he wriggles himself downwards under the sheet. It’s not that much earlier than Arthur usually wakes, after all.

Beneath the covers, Merlin breathes in the familiar, warm scent of Arthur’s skin. Settling his torso comfortably between spread legs, he moves to suckle Arthur’s half-hard cock which, roused by Merlin’s slow and careful slide downwards, firms up in his mouth with gratifying promptness. He licks at it delicately, strokes his nose against its silken texture - his stubbled cheek would wake Arthur too quickly - and takes it into his mouth again. Merlin takes the time to savour the experience: he is cocooned in skin-warmed, imported cotton, with Arthur in his arms, and in his mouth, and even in the depths of his very lungs.

All too soon, he feels the muscles in Arthur’s thighs tensing, feels the shift of his balls drawing up ready, feels the weight of a hand settling on the back of his head, through the bedclothes, hears Arthur’s sleep-roughened voice cry out his name.

As Arthur turns down the covers and hauls him up into the light, into a kiss, Merlin comes.


End file.
